


Candy Ain't So Sweet

by cyrusbarrone



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, chubby bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Barnes did not deserve this. His arm was stuck in the candy machine. Quite literally stuck. His shoulder was wedged a little in the draw, and he could see his hand through the glass.</p><p>or 'chubby Bucky gets his arm stuck in a vending machine'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Ain't So Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Too_Rad_To_Be_Sad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Rad_To_Be_Sad/gifts).



> Chubby Bucky is the bane of my existence, but I fear I'm not that fab at writing it. I'll have to try again sometime.

James Buchanan Barnes was a good person. When he was little he would play nicely wry the other children, and he would even let his little sister lick the bowl clean of cake mix. As he grew up he would help the elderly cross the street, put change in the tins of the homeless. All the stuff that your mumma would teach you to do. 

James Barnes did not deserve this. 

His arm was stuck in the candy machine. Quite literally stuck. His shoulder was wedged a little in the draw, and he could see his hand through the glass, fingers wiggling from behind a packet of Reeses. The packet of Hershey's cookie crumble was mocking him where it sat jammed half way down the length of the candy machine. Bucky glared at it unhappily.

It was an embarrassing predicament for one to find oneself stuck in. However, the vending machine was in a fairly segregated area so Bucky only had himself to think how stupid that man with his arm stuck in a vending machine looked. 

"I'm never going to use a vending machine again," he vows. He presses his forehead against the glass and gives his arm another tug, pouting out his red bottom lip when it just pulled uncomfortably. "Even if I'm starving and they're the only source of food left." his stomach gives a growl, and he glares down at it, rubbing his free hand against the pudgy flesh there. 

"That's a hell of a vow," says a voice, sounding amused. Bucky cannot blame them. If he saw a chubby young man with his arm embedded in the body of a vending machine he would likely also be amused. "Really never ever going to use them again?" 

Bucky looked up from his little pool of self pity, and tried not to sit a little straighter to hide where his stomach went into a slight roll underneath his shirt. The man in front of him was tall and muscled, slim down the waist. His body, Bucky thought, was shaped vaguely like a Dorito chip. 

"I won't be able to if I die here," Bucky states. He stared up at his arm, to check it was still there for his fingers were beginning to numb. "And I'm fairly sure that is the most likely outcome." 

The Dorito Man shrugs with this smile which doesn't look so mocking, more kind. "Well, we're obviously going to have to get you out before the inevitable happens." 

Bucky gives the stranger a look, frowning as a candy bar flatters down to the tray his shoulder's jamming open. "You know you're not legally allowed to amputate a stranger's arm." 

Dorito smiles again, puts down what looks like a punching bag. "So, if I knew you it would be legal?" he asks, walking towards the vending machine and prodding a few fingers against the glass.

Bucky looked at him a little incredulously. Was this guy serious? Did he think that Bucky hadn't tried prodding at the damn glass? "Um?" he asks. "What you doin'?" 

The man's hand flattened against the glass before he drew his hand back and punched it. Bucky's eyes widened and he scrambled as much as he could, a mantra of 'what the fuck' going through his mind as he did it again. Bucky grabbed at the guys wrist to stop him the third time. "What the fuck!" he states. "That only works on Kill Bill, man!" 

The guy looked at him and clenched his reddening fist and let it hang down at his thigh. "What's Kill Bill?" 

Bucky fidgeted, pulling his shirt over where it has risen over the slight pooch of his tummy. "Uh, a movie," he explains, pulling his arm again and managing to knock down a packet of chips, ironically they were Dorito's. He let out a slight laugh, and picked at them, pulling them out and passing them to the man with a raised eyebrow. 

"Cool," the guy says, pulling out a notebook and writing something before taking the doritio's with a white smile. "D'you think if I kicked the door?" 

Bucky shrugged, he was up for most things now because he was starting to lose the feeling in his hand and he was getting quite the numb bum sitting on the cold ground. He didn't know if it would work, hell, if the guy had good enough aim not to kick Bucky's head off of his neck. "Sounds good to me," he says, picking up the fallen chocolate bar and taking a bite, caramel oozing out. Caramel was Bucky's favourite and his tummy made a pleased sort of noise, and Bucky patted it after finishing the bar. 

"Move your head," says Dorito, nodding his head to the left and Bucky copied.

The man kicked his foot up against the glass, by the square with a lock. It looks vaguely like the action of a policeman trying to kick down a door. The man vaguely missed Bucky's ear on the second kick, going until he'd done five and nothing had happened. 

"Are you a cop?" Bucky asks, sitting up as much as he could and looking at the other. "That was totally a cop kick. I've seen it on the Telly." 

The man laughs a little, glancing around. "No, I'm not a cop," he says, giving Bucky a slight smile that made him want to swoon. "I'm Steve." 

Bucky was confused. "What does a Steve do?" he asked, shifting his arm a little in the vending machine, wiggling his fingers. 

The man laughed. "No, my names Steve." 

Bucky vaguely wondered if he was losing brain capacity because of his predicament. His face flushed in embarrassment, well, further embarrassment. "Wow I'm a fucking idiot," he states. "I'm Bucky." 

The man laughs good naturedly and produces a little clip from the side of the punching bag. It looked like a sliding grip that the girls used, and Bucky wondered why he had it for a few seconds before deciding that was the least of his worries considering he could no longer feel a little below his elbow. 

"Odd name," says Steve, because his name wasn't Dorito and Steve was not his job. 

"Yeah, but can we talk about that later," Bucky requested, feeling a little more drastic as he felt on a time limit before he lost his arm. "Please. You might have to amputate!" 

Steve laughs again, like Bucky's arm wasn't being threatened by the metal drawer squeezing around the pudge of his arm. "Or you could just drag the vender around with you," he suggests, pressin the grip into the lock on the door and wiggling it. "If you put a shawl over it I reckon people'll be none the wiser." 

Bucky laughed humorlessly. "Very funny." 

"That's what my friends say," Steve says, giving a charming grin of white teeth. Bucky huffs against the machine, making his belly wobble a little with the movement. "Your friends would be wrong," he pouted slightly, feeling quote sorry for himself as Steve worked away with the hair grip. 

"That's no way to treat your saviour," Steve pipes up, twisting the grip this way and that until the door made this clicking sound and the door swung open. Bucky barely moved his head forwards quick enough. No arm and a concussion would be no fun. 

"Now I have a breeze on my arm," Bucky states, seeing his fingers wiggle and not feeling it. "But my arm is still stuck!" 

Steve frowned, and peered down into the machine where Bucky's arm was still stuck, true to his words. The door opening hadn't particularly helped and Steve looked a little helpless, this frown on his face and scrunch on his lips. 

"Lubricant," says Steve. 

Bucky stares. "What." 

Steve gives him a look, one telling him to stop being an immature idiot. It's a look that someone sends someone they’ve known for years and something in Bucky's belly feels warm at the sight of it. "To slip your arm out. Obviously." 

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Obviously."

Bucky felt like he was kind of the butt of this guys joke as he watched him undo a pocket on the front of a backpack Bucky hadn't noticed. He rifled around with the bag for a few seconds before pulling out this see-through pink bottle with the word 'her' in capital silver letters. 

"Why do you have lube in your bag?" Bucky asks, scratching at his chin. "I thought that was more of a wallet thing." 

"My friend put it in there," Steve answers, pulling the cap off the bottle and wrinkling his nose. "Apparently this will 'tingle deliciously'." 

Bucky tries to smolder. "Dirty talk some more, baby." 

"Ha-ha," states Steve, sounding the opposite of the words as he walks to Bucky and crouches a little awkwardly above Bucky's chunky-thick thighs. He pulls off the cap and drops it on Bucky's belly, before leaning into the machine and squeezing the lubricant around where his arm had jammed. Bucky wrinkled his nose and wiggled his arm. 

"Feels like slippery popping candy," he informs Steve, pulling at his arm.

Steve's hands suddenly wrapped about Bucky's bicep that was bare and showing in the vending machine. And he pushed, twisting at Bucky's arm a little. His fingers slipped in the lubricant and his fingers dipped slightly into the chub of Bucky's arm. Bucky pulled again and he felt slight movement. 

"Are you a fireman?" Bucky asks, pulling and pulling until the lube squelched and his arm was free to a bit above his elbow. "In training, obviously. If you were a fully trained fireman you'd have gotten me out and saved two point five cats by now." 

Steve gives him a look as he gets feeling back into his fingers and makes a slight whoop of delight. "I didn't have to help you," he says, and the lube tingled a little as he got the rest of his arm free. "You do know that?" 

Bucky didn't care. He was too happy to be reunited with his arm that what Steve said didn't even occur to him. He hugged at his numb arm and wiggled his fingers around happily, twisting at his wrist and loving the fact it was no longer numb. "Steve," Bucky says. "You're a real doll."

He didn't even care that there were these awful long red scrapes down his arm, and that he was going to be bruised to high hell tomorrow or even the fact that his arm was slippy and tingly with 'her' lubricant. 

"You're welcome," smiles Steve, and that's his good deed done for the day, Bucky figures as the bottle of lube is capped and the door on the vending machine is closed. "I'd have wanted help if I were in that situation." 

Bucky looks at him a little skeptically as he pushed up from the ground, fingers sliding against the vender. He pulled his jeans up a little from where they'd sagged around his ass, and tries to discreetly rub at the slightly red lines around his hips. "You probably could have bent the drawer with those arms."

Steve looks at his arms, like he doesn't know that they're the size of Bucky's head and gives him another all-American looking smile, hand scuffing the back of his neck. "I'd probably struggle with one arm," he admits, modestly. 

Bucky picks up his backpack from the floor and hangs the strap over his shoulder, after getting out a tissue and wiping at his still tingly arm. He gave Steve a slight look as they started to walk out of the practically abandoned and enormous store. With every slight step down the small stairs to the main town, his shirt raised a little over the stomach to the point where he just left it, white pooch of belly hanging out a little. 

"D'you want to go get coffee, saviour?" Bucky asks Steve, turning and giving him one of his flirty smiles. 

Steve nodded, and looked down at his sneakers, “only if it's Starbucks. I like the pumpkin spice thing." 

Bucky gave him a withering and slightly disgusted look. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt," he offers kindly. "You've just lost a couple brain cells figuring ways to get me out of the vending machine. That's why you think that shits nice." 

"That's the only reasonable explanation," agrees Steve solemnly. Bucky catches his eye and they share a slight smile, bordering on the edge of shy.

**Author's Note:**

> This has not been read through, at all. It's probably a little shit in some areas, but the idea made me laugh so much, so I had to write it.


End file.
